


i'll be here

by livtontea



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Hair Washing, Intimacy, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Showers, i wrote this at 2am with a raging headache
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24401080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livtontea/pseuds/livtontea
Summary: Alec wraps his fingers in the hem of his shirt.“Go on,” says Magnus, soft, encouraging, urging without pressuring.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 11
Kudos: 162





	i'll be here

**Author's Note:**

> wow can u believe the first thing i write for tmi is this shit,,, this absolute mess of me crying over my own emotional attachment to these two domestic dumbasses in love at 2 in the morning,,, sobbing over my touch starvation and craving for intimacy,,, last time i saw the show being years ago and my only solid ground is my current rewatch which is atm at the second half of s1,,, can u believe
> 
> anyway thank u james @jinxedjam for reading over this for me dfkjhks <3

Alec wraps his fingers in the hem of his shirt. His chest aches with bruises and cuts, small enough he doesn’t need an _iratze._ (Small enough he doesn’t want one; doesn’t feel like he warrants using one.) The air is hot and thick with steam—the shower curtain remains a wall between himself and—

“Go on,” says Magnus, soft, encouraging, urging without pressuring.

His chest rattles with… weight. _Feeling_ caught inside. His fingers tangle in the fabric, the muscle cramps encroaching on his fragile flesh. He takes a deep breath and he aches, inside and out. Slowly, Alec uncurls his hands.

“Alexander,” says Magnus. He’s peeking out from behind the curtain, half-hidden by translucent plastic. Devoid of eyeliner and make-up, his eyes fall soft on Alec’s rigid shape. “You’re doing great.”

Alec takes in a shaky breath. He’s standing here, in Magnus’ bathroom, covered in ichor and blood, soreness and tire leaking from his joints, and all he has managed to do is unclench his hands and toe off his boots. And yet he hears: he’s doing great.

“Would you like me to turn away?” asks him Magnus. His fingers—ringless—toy with the edge of the shower curtain.

“No,” rasps Alec, the aftereffects of a fight clogging his throat. “No, you don’t—please don’t,” he says. He means, _please don’t look away,_ and _please don’t leave me alone,_ and _if you don’t look at me I don’t know if I’ll feel like I’m here at all,_ and _you have the right to see me like this; I want you to see me like this._

Magnus looks at him like he understands.

“Okay,” he says, “I won’t.”

Slowly, Alec tugs on the hem of his shirt, and pulls up. Magnus’ eyes skirt over his now-exposed chest; drifting to his neck and then following the stretch of the _deflect_ rune to Alec’s face. His eyes stop when they meet Alec’s—Alec swallows and doesn’t look away.

“Alexander.”

It—it’s one word. His name. Just one. It shouldn’t feel as heavy as it does. Shouldn’t feel as weighted, as _important_ coming from Magnus’ lips. But it does.

Without looking away, Alec’s tremoring fingers reach down to fumble with his belt buckle.

“Let me,” murmurs Magnus.

“Okay,” says Alec. “Okay.”

Magnus’ fingers are wet. They’re steady as he undoes Alec’s belt, as he pulls it from the belt loops and lets it fall to the floor. They don’t quiver as he slowly pulls Alec’s pants down to his ankles. Alec clenches his hands by his sides.

“Shh,” soothes Magnus. “Alexander, it’s alright. It’s okay,” he tells him, prying open his fingers like he’s cradling something broken. “It’s okay; you don’t have to.”

Alec’s fingers are pliant as he takes Magnus’ hand and steps out of his pants; one step closer to behind the shower curtain. He’s left bare except for his boxers; exposed and taking shaky breaths of the steam in the bathroom.

Magnus is quick to hook his fingers in the waistband of the remaining clothing; slow to strip Alec of it—taking his time, soft and sure, with a lingering tenderness that makes Alec want to curl up into Magnus like a child and never unravel. There are damp streaks up and down his legs where Magnus’ fingers had gone. Water pearls and drips, leaving splashes on the tile.

Magnus looks at Alec; Alec is seen. He pulls aside the curtain, and with a beckoning gesture on Magnus’ part, steps into the shower.

The water’s lukewarm.

Magnus’ hair, usually tall and colored, is dark and flat against his head. Alec inhales and lets the steam tickle the back of his throat.

“Is it too hot?”

Alec shakes his head. “It’s perfect.”

A huff of air leaves Magnus like he didn’t intend to let it go. “Good,” he says, just loud enough to be heard over the running water. He waves his hands, and Alec thinks he’s going to do magic—but he just looks at Alec like he sees him, and says, “Come here.”

Alec comes.

Magnus, who had been under the stream of water, side-steps and turns so they trade places. Alec shivers at the water suddenly on his back, even though it isn’t cold. He can feel some of the tension slip away from his body, dripping down the drain like the murky water that leaves his flesh in rivulets down his back.

“Bend down,” Magnus says. His fingers are slicked with what’s in the bottle on the ledge of the shower—shampoo. Alec ducks his head under the wet heat and shuts his eyes.

The soft brush of fingers in his hair makes him want to fall through the floor. He doesn’t think that’s ever happened to him before—nobody has ever accepted him at their doorstep after a mission that went just a little wrong; has taken him in and undressed him and guided him into the shower and began to wash his hair. (Somewhere along the process Magnus has switched to conditioner and washed that out, too.) It’s intimate in a way he has never felt before. Heart-wrenchingly tender and _important,_ in a way that he knows has the means to shatter him just as much as it can guide him to safety.

Alec opens his eyes when Magnus moves his hands to his shoulders. He watches the sudsy water swirl.

“Is this okay?”

Alec sighs, heavy and so, so _tired._

“Yeah,” he says. “It always is, with you.”

Magnus’ fingers stutter before kneading into his flesh once more. He works his way down Alec’s back, washing off grime and ichor and the ruins of a day gone by.

Alec sighs again at the press of lips to where his shoulder and neck meet. It’s a different sort of sigh this time. This time, Magnus trails kisses down the knobs of his spine, washing him clean of regret, and Alec’s sigh tastes like sweetness and home.

When Alec is clean—when he is wet and renewed—he turns to Magnus and presses a kiss to his eyebrow. His mouth moves lower, to just below his eye, and then to his cheek—against which he whispers, meant for only Magnus to hear, “Let me.”

Magnus shuts his eyes and Alec feels hands smoothing down his back and lips solid against his hairline. “Okay,” he hears murmured, “okay.”

Magnus is beautiful. That’s a simple truth, just like the sky is blue and the grass is green. The world moves on around them, and Magnus is beautiful. He always is—just as beautiful like this, bare-faced and devoid of his shimmers and shines and jewelry, as he is completely dressed up and colored at the edges. Alec has seen him in the mornings, eyes crusted with sleep and blinking lazily, and he’s beautiful _then_ too. He’s just… always so beautiful.

Alec squeezes shampoo into his hand and reaches to brush his fingers through Magnus’ hair. Alec’s fingers are pruned up under the water. Magnus closes his eyes and lets him slowly massage the shampoo into his scalp.

He washes the shampoo out of Magnus’ hair, and then massages in the conditioner. His fingers are slow to press into Magnus’ skin, carefully making sure not to pull anything. He rinses out the conditioner and moves to grab the body wash.

Alec works his way down, hands rubbing shoulders, neck, then dips to Magnus’ smooth stomach. He presses his forehead to Magnus’ hip and takes a second—just a second. Magnus wastes no time threading his fingers in Alec’s hair, giving him all the time he needs.

Magnus doesn’t magic them dry. He snaps his fingers to warm the towels, like they just came out of tumbling in the dryer, and that’s that. They step past the shower curtain and wrap each other in soft fabric, slowly making their way over to the bedroom. Alec falls flat onto the bed, eyes closed, while Magnus digs around drawers for sleep clothes.

“Here,” he says, handing Alec a pair of underwear and a worn t-shirt. Alec looks up to see Magnus has already dressed. (In one of Alec’s shirts, he notes, the already baggy shirt reaching just past the tops of his thighs.)

Alec obediently wiggles into the makeshift pajamas. He’s sure that Magus could summon a full set of silk, for Alec and for himself, but he’s just, so tired. He’s so tired, and all he wants is to fall asleep with Magnus next to him.

Wordlessly he rolls over to make room.

Magnus fits beside Alec like a puzzle piece clicking into place. His hand goes on Alec’s waist, his legs moving to tangle together with Alec’s. He smells like sandalwood. Alec presses his back to Magnus’ chest and breathes in sync with him.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, voice laced with the urge to sleep.

Magnus kisses the back of his neck. “Go to sleep, darling. I’ll be here.”

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is @peachygos u can find me there if u want, idk if this fandom is still active or anything but if u read this and u like it comments are very much welcomed!! have a good day :]


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